Sectioned
by grazed fingertips
Summary: No one really knew why it'd happened or what caused it. What drove Lily over the edge and made her scrape at the thin flesh of her wrists until blood broke through. So they stuck her in a psych ward in an attempt to understand, to make her better. And it did, because there she found solace in a boy who was just as screwed up as she was. / WORK IN PROGRESS.
1. Chapter 1

**Lily Potter the Second Sectioned…**

Wizarding world in shock as heroes' daughter is dragged to psych ward.

The headline took up most of the page, and the other half was filled with a looping image of a door swinging open, and Lily Potter, dressed in sweats and a baggy, dirty tank top with bloody bandages around her wrists, being dragged out of the house, kicking and screaming, and, as soon as they were passed the anti-apparition wards, disappearing in the hands of two beefy wizards, dressed in plan white scrubs.

Soon after they disappeared, Ginny Potter came to the door, a hand placed delicately over her mouth and tears streaking down her cheeks. Harry soon joined her, placing an arm around her shoulder and taking her back inside, closing the door behind them. If you looked carefully, you could see the two other Potter children watching from the second floor windows, pale faced and stoic. The image then looped again, and again, and again. And for the life of me, I couldn't stop watching. My face, my parent's faces, my brothers peering out of their windows; white and gaunt like ghosts, the lot of them… all because of me.

It wasn't the first time I'd cut, but it was the first time I'd tried to end it all in that way, and much to my inconvenience it was the first time I'd been caught. I'd taken refuge in the unused bathroom on the third floor of the house. No one went up there unless they were working on the soon-to-be second guest room and en suite. A pretty pastel number this time, powder blue walls and a cream carpet. Lovely, if you liked that kind of thing.

They decided they'd have a bathroom just for said guest, to minimize the awkwardness of sharing a bathroom with your host. It's easier to take a shit if you're not forced to look at Harry Potter's monogrammed flannel, you know? The thought of crapping in the presence of the Heroes Wife's hand soap is too overwhelming.

So I took the trek up to the third floor, and locked myself in the bathroom, turning the taps as I settled myself on the closed toilet seat. I'm not of age yet, so my wand was of no use to me when it came to barricading myself in or maximizing the damage. Fortunately, you don't need one to slit your own wrists. No, Daddy's muggle razor blades are of much more use to a depressed teenager than a stick of magic wood could ever be. God bless Grandma Lily for being a muggle born. Without her none of this would've been possible.

Ironic as it is, I sent up a quick prayer to her as I settled myself in the pristine tub filled with warm water. I'd prepped myself well and good for this final endeavor of mine. I'd spent the week being nice to everyone, making sure they were happy and had a good time doing whatever.

I'd procured myself a lovely, straight, fresh razor blade and had drunk lots of water over the past 24hrs meaning my veins were slightly enlarged, and the warm water, with added bath oils might I add, also helped that. I'd contemplated playing some relaxing music too, but realized that would draw unnecessary and unwanted attention to the supposedly 'unused bathroom'. It might also lift my spirits, which is a major inconvenience when one wants to kill themselves..

So as I sat in the tub, feeling my body relax, I cast my mind back over my life and steeled myself for the next part by reminding myself why exactly I was here, in this tub, poised and ready to end it all.

I thought of my family. My hero of a father who, even after defeating Voldemort, went on to become the best head auror the wizarding world had ever seen. How he doted on James and Al, encouraged them to be the best they could be, played Quidditch with them whenever he could and always took them out to see the professional matches, or took them to work with him to see how the big boys played.

How he never spent any time with me, and always looked over me when I joined in the Quidditch games, or took interest in the cases he was working. How no matter how hard I tried, I could never compete with James and Al in his eyes. Ever. Even Cousin Rose took a higher rank with him, purely because she reminded him of Aunt Hermione when she was in school and made him feel young again. And Roxy, because she's so much like Uncle Fred was…

I thought of my Quidditch Pro of a mother, who had seemed to barely age a day from those pictures of the Wizarding War and the books and the chocolate frog cards. Who all the girls thought was beautiful, and all the boys thought a MILF. Who would always be everything I wasn't, or couldn't be. How all the papers thought I should be her, thought I should be as lithe as her, as spunky as her, as much a duplicate of her as I could be, and ripped into me when I wasn't. Pointed out how I'd never be a Quidditch pro like her, even if I trained for the next 10 years straight. Said how I would never be as beautiful, or as skinny, or as important, or as big a success as her…

I thought of my brothers. James, the talented seeker, tipped off for the next Under 21s team for the World Cup, and _the_ player all the regional teams were going to squabble over when he did leave school. The one with the rugged good looks and enough charm to de-robe McGonagall if needs be. The one who always called me Squirt, who mocked me, who teased me, who ratted me out to mum and dad if I put one toe out of line. The one who always picked out my faults, whenever and wherever. Who made a fool out of me in front of my parents, his friends, Als friends and mine. Who never once apologized, and always did the same time and time again..

Al, the brains of the Potters. The one who the school, and the rest of the world had pinned their academic hopes and dreams on, and took it all in his stride, without breaking a sweat. The one who never directly mocked me, or belittled me, but never stopped James. Never stood up for me. And always made me feel that little bit smaller, even if he never meant it. How casually the hardest of equations rolled off his tongue. How he seemed to absorb knowledge like a sponge. How he'd always be brainier that me and James and mum and dad put together.

I thought of my cousins. How all of them were good at something. Rose, like Al, had the brains. Hugo was a musical maestro. Fred was born to run the joke shop. Roxy was a born Quidditch pro. Victoire was set to be the best healer of her time. Dom was a born model and fashionista. Louis was a natural cook, and had already set up a station in the Hogwarts kitchens. Teddy a budding auror, and tipped for the top. And all of them, every single one of them, are beautiful, inside and out… And then there was me. Plain old good for nothing Lily, born to be a failure…

I thought of school, how they adored everyone for something. All of them excelled at a subject, and they catered to it because, hell, these were the spawn of the Golden Trio and Co, and to disappoint them is to commit a mortal sin. So they all got everything they wanted in what they were good at. Extra work in classes they excelled at, extra Quidditch gear, access to the prefect bathroom and whatever else they wanted.

Yeah, they'd of given it to me, except I don't excel at anything in school. I'm good at Quidditch, sure. But I'm nowhere near as good as Roxy and James. I'm good in certain classes, but it's almost guaranteed that one of my brothers or cousins is better. I like to read, but not as much as Al or Rose. I'm bested by all of them at home and at school, and everyone knows it and does nothing to help me or make me feel better.

I thought of my friends, and how they'd noticed and even pointed it out, but done nothing for me. I thought of all the boys I'd liked and done nothing about. I thought about my lack of love life, on top of my lack of brains and looks and general social graces. I thought about how my 16 years had amounted to nothing more than a room full of crap I've never actually needed, and the barely there scuff I'd left on the world.

And I was ready. I sat up a little, and raised my right arm and let my hand tilt back. I took the razor blade in my left hand, and placed it at the top of my wrist. I took a deep breath, and pushed in, gritting my teeth slightly, and slashed down along the vein, quickly and efficiently, making sure to be straight so I didn't sever any tendons. I switched hands, and did the same to my other arm, letting the blade fall from my grip when I was done. I heard it clatter on the ground, and made a mental note that someone was going to have to clean that up, too, as well as scrubbing the tub when I was done…

I rested my head back and concentrated on the warm water and the floating feeling that was coming over my body… And then it was ruined by a knock on the door, and some words about dinner. I thought we'd already had dinner. Fuck. I went to sit up, but I was too dizzy, too lightheaded already. I tried to say 'go away', but all that came out was a mumbling sound.

After a few seconds with no reply, the person on the other side of the door, James, started pounding and yelling my name. I managed to stand and get out the tub somehow, but as soon as I had, my legs gave way. I could feel tears running down my cheeks, not from regret, but from the fact that my moment had been ruined. My perfect exit had been rudely interrupted but my fucking idiot of a brother. I then noticed how much _red_ had spilled over the bathroom tiles. It contrasted horribly with the sterile white of Wickes finest. Then the door burst open, and it was quiet for the first time in what felt like forever.

And then all hell broke loose. A terrified _scream_ erupted from my brother. A genuine, raw scream, and I was being wrapped in towels and cradled against a chest with muttered, mumbling, fumbled spells being cast on my wrists. I had spells cast on me that brought me back from the brink of my stupor, and when I realized that I wasn't dead, that I'd had bandages put on my wrists and the blood flow stemmed, I screamed. I turned on my brother and I hit, I scratched, I swore and I fought his grip. I cried, I pleaded, I begged for him to go, to leave and shut the door and pretend it was a joke. To put me back in the tub and let, me, go..

It was after I'd whispered that final, hoarse plea that I realized they were all in the doorway. My parents were there, staring at the scene, my mother clinging to my father and sobbing silently. Albus, with his mussed hair and wide, owlish eyes. All pale. All tired looking. All shocked. All looking so scared. Then my dad grabbed his wand and cleared up the blood, drained the bath. Vanished all evidence that I'd tried to take my own life. He came over to James and me and took me from him, and tried to vanish the cuts…

And I hit him. I scratched his face, clawed my way out of his arms, and curled up in the corner, as far away from them all as I could. I ripped off the bandages, near crying over the now healing gashes on my arms. I looked around wildly, trying to find the blade, but it'd been vanished with the rest of the scene. So I did the next best thing I could think of, I started scratching with my nails. I scrabbled and stabbed and gouged, but none of it worked. They were healing to quickly. I started sobbing then, screaming at them, asking them why they had to ruin it. Why they'd had to interfere. I told them I hated them for doing it, and that they shouldn't care if I was gone because they hated me too.

Beads of blood were now appearing on my arms again, and I almost laughed. My Mum was suddenly crouching in front of me, clutching my arms with shaking but firm hands.

"We've fire called Mungo's." I heard her say, but I didn't look at her. I was too focused on the small cuts that littered my wrists again. "They're going to come and take you to the hospital. They're going to try and make you better."

And then she was gone, retreating to the other side of the bathroom again, back into the arms of the war hero that couldn't save his own daughter from herself. From the family he'd made and become a part of. Then it was Albus sat cross-legged in front of me instead.

"I'm here to say goodbye." He said, and I just nodded, not really absorbing what that meant at the time. "And I'm here to apologize. For… for not helping you when I should've. I'm sorry Lily. I… I wish I could understand." I almost snorted. Not understanding _this_ must be killing him. "I won't come see you in Mungo's, I doubt they'd let us in anyway, but I don't think you'd want us to visit you there. So goodbye, sis. I love you, no matter how it looks, I do." A light kiss on the forehead and he was gone, soon replaced by James.

"I… I don't know what to say, Lils." His voice was thick, and hoarse from the scream that escaped him when he found me. "I'm sorry for letting you down. I'm sorry for whatever else I may have done to make you do this. I love you though, Lily, and I guess you never saw it but I do. I'll miss you, so much. And I hope you get better. I really, really do." Another kiss and he was gone.

My Dad never said goodbye. He never said that he loved me before I was dragged away by the men in white scrubs. It hit me then as they entered the bathroom just what 'fire calling Mungo's' meant. It meant they were sectioning me. Taking me away from them, my friends and all the rest of it. Away from the pills, the rope, the razor blades, the bleach… Into a safety bubble filled with therapeutic exercises and other people like me. Some worse, some not as bad, but still like me..

I fought it, of course. I wanted to _die_. Not be taken to a hospital where a speccy bloke or women would sit and hum and nod and pretend to understand what was going on inside my head. I screamed and kicked and bit and clawed at their arms. I yelled at my parents for doing this to me. I told them they could've stopped this. They could've prevented _all of this_ if only once they'd paid attention.

The last thing they heard from me that day was a screamed 'I fucking hate the lot of you!' before I was silenced by the pop of apparition.

And now here I'm sat, in a private room on the psych ward, dressed in jeans and t-shirt reading about Lily Potters terrible demise. My terrible demise. And it's only just begun.

* * *

**Authors Note**

_In relation to Harrys OOC-ness, please remember that Lily's in a psych ward for a reason, and it's almost guaranteed that she'll perceive things differently to how they really are. But other than that, I really hope you enjoyed my first chapter! Please review and track this story if you like it!_


	2. Chapter 2

I could feel the gazes of the other 'sectionees' upon me as I entered the canteen the next morning. An uneasy hush swept across them as I took my place at a vacated table and began to stab at my scrambled egg. Even though we were all screwed up, I was still different. Even though none of us were normal, stable, whatever, I was still in a different league to them, all because of my parents.

My grip on my plastic knife tightened as the rage and hatred towards my parents swelled in my chest. Because of them I wasn't even accepted in a fucking psych ward. If they didn't accept you, you were at an all time low.

"They're like it with every newbie." Someone said as they slid into the seat opposite me. My head snapped up to look at them. "You're not special." The girl grinned at me, her pearly teeth flashing at me. She looked familiar… "Hailey Zabini. We were in the same year at school." Oh yeah, that's right…

**Name:** Hailey Zabini.

**Age:** 16.

**Siblings:** A twin, Blaise Jr.

**Parents:** Blaise Zabini and Daphne Greengrass.

**Additional Info:** Father is a CEO of a muggle company, mother died in childbirth. History of mental illnesses on fathers side.

**Reason for admittance:** Attacked her 5th stepmother with a steak knife, after accusing her of poisoning her father who'd been bedridden for roughly 1 month. Sectioned two weeks later after being diagnosed with schizophrenia.

"Has it changed much?" She asked, snapping me out of my analysis.

"Huh?"

"School, has it changed much." She repeated, spooning the eggs into her mouth, and subsequently scrunching her petite features up in disgust.

I shrugged, "Not really. The only difference was that there was gossip, as expected, but everyone pretty much got on with everything as normal. Blaise took it well, I guess. He ignored the rumors, only stepping in if they were insanely exaggerated."

She laughed, "What were they saying?"

"That it wasn't your stepmother you went after, it was your father and brother, and she had to fight you off and that's why she got put into Mungo's. That's the nicest one. There was another saying you attacked the portrait of your mother with an axe first, chopping the picture to bits and screaming about how this was all her fault, then went after the help, decapitating and quartering them, then finally your stepmother."

"Ex-stepmother." She corrected, apparently unfazed by the stories, and I raised a brow. "She ran off after they released her, saying how she hadn't signed up for this when she married Pa. Stupid bitch signed up for money, and that's the only reason she was their in the first place." She stabbed her food angrily, and then sighed, slumping slightly. "So, what brings you here?" She asked, sipping her juice carton.

I shrugged, "They don't know what it is yet, just that it's bad enough for me to be put in here. I've got my official psych evaluation at half twelve. I'll probably go back to bed until then. I didn't get much sleep last night. But you'll be the first to know their verdict, Hailey."

She smiled at me, and nodded, but it slipped from her face. "You need friends in here, Lily. If you don't have someone to talk to apart from the shrink, it'll make everything a million times worse. I tried not socializing with the other kids when I initially wound up here, and within a week I was even crazier than I was when I joined. They forced me to take part in social activities like art and music and instantly I felt better. Really." She laughed a little, "But in here's genuinely different from out there. They're not all against you; they're here to help you. Remember that. It took a while for me to." She smiled kindly before standing, taking her empty tray back to the hatch, and flashing me one last pearly grin before taking off to wherever.

I stared at the empty doorway for a long time, mulling her words over in my mind. _They're not all against you; they're here to help you. Remember that._ I'd barely resisted snorting at her words, but the sincerity in her tone made me double my efforts and suppress the sound successfully. I wasn't going to believe her, as nice as she was. She'd been here long enough for them to get inside her head, replace her crazy with a brand of their own. I wasn't going to fall for that. None of their potions or _medication_ could take away what I knew deep inside. Nothing they could do could cut out the monster that grew under my skin, take away the voices that whispered in my ears, neutralize the colors and whirls that bloomed and blossomed behind my eyelids.

I knew that they'd kill me, eventually. The things that grew where nothing should. But I'd much rather it was them that did me in rather than people who pretended to care. At least you're aware of the devils true intentions before he finally takes your soul.

I trudged back to my room, my soft-soled shoes barely squeaking against the pristine floor. There were people loitering outside of their bedroom doors, looking at nothing in particular and mutterings. There was a young man, no older that 20 standing at the payphone on the corner, the plastic lifeline almost plastered to his head, his lips moving rapidly with no sound emerging. As I passed, I realized the phone was upside-down, and if any voice had been floating from the device it would've been swallowed immediately.

I noted the subtle change in décor, how the pretty pastel pictures became more vibrant, more _youthful_. The sound of awkward mumblings soon turned to chatter, which eventually became laughter. The lone loiterers soon became small groups huddled like penguins. The seemingly foreign crazy soon became relatable, and for once in a long, long time… I felt like someone might understand. But that idea was soon put to bed, as the minute my presence became known, the same hush from the canteen seemed to follow, and all groups turned to stare at me as I walked through them to get the my room. I could feel the stares burning holes in my back, and as I passed each of them I caught a snippet of their conversation.

"_That's Lily Potter, isn't it?"_

"_Heard she's as mad as we are."_

"_Heard she tried to kill herself."_

"_Heard her Father never said goodbye."_

"_Heard she's a disappointment."_

"_Heard she's a cheater."_

"_Heard she's a slut."_

"_Heard she's a snitch."_

"_Heard she's a coward."_

"_Heard she's a faker."_

"_Heard she's a liar."_

"_Heard she doesn't belong anywhere."_

"_Heard she'd be better off dead."_

I clamped my hands over my ears, my pace quickening. I dug my nails into the skin, hard, hoping the initial sting and the dull ache that followed would distract me, make it less real.

"_Heard her brothers are scared of her now."_

"_Heard her mother's ashamed of her."_

"_Heard her family's gonna disown her."_

"_Heard her fathers never gonna love her like them."_

"_Heard she'll never be what they want."_

"_Heard that no-one's ever loved her. Full stop."_

"_Heard that no-one ever will."_

"_Heard that her parents never even wanted three kids."_

"_Heard that she was an accident."_

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." I muttered as I carried on down the corridor, feeling the tears stinging the back of my eyes. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I whirled, wide eyed, and came face to face with Hailey. Her brows were furrowed, eyes scanning my face. "They won't go away." I whimpered, feeling something damp trickle down my fingers. "They won't leave me alone. They always go away after a while, but they're bad today. Really bad. Really, really bad."

"_Heard she'll never escape us."_

"I will." My voice came out hoarse as I backed away from Hailey's outstretched hand and fearful face.

"_Heard she's never been able to face the truth."_

"Shut the fuck up." I fell back, propelling myself into a wall and sliding down it, pressing harder, digging deeper, relishing in the raw sting.

"_Heard she'll be stuck with us forever."_

"Shut up!" I screamed, curling in on myself, tensing my muscles so tight they burned. I could feel the wetness streaking down my cheek now, but it didn't come from my eyes. "Why won't you leave me alone! I did everything you asked, everything!" Hailey was gone now, and the corridor was empty, bathed in a bleak light. "You promised." I whimpered, searching for someone, anyone who could make this stop. "You promised after I did what you asked, you'd leave me alone. But you're still here." I croaked, my throat as raw as the gauges my nails had. "I did everything." I repeated once again, and the responding silence was broken by footsteps that echoed incredibly loud in the narrowing corridor. A pair of black suit shoes met my opening eyes, and they rocked forward onto the balls of their feet as they crouched. A finger tucked under my chin, slowly bringing my face up to meet theirs. My father stared back at me, eyes impossibly green and alight with something I'd never seen before. A smile spread onto my face and I scrambled to sit up right, clawing at his sleeves. _Daddy, daddy's here to help me. To save me. It's my turn._ But that grin slipped away and an icy coldness seemed to drown my very soul at the words he uttered with a small smile on his face.

"_But you're not dead."_

DIAGNOSIS: .

wiki/Major_depressive_disorder


	3. Chapter 3

And suddenly, everything was replaced by a harrowing numbness. My hands fell away from his sleeves, my mouth tried to form words, tried to form an argument, a response, but nothing came. I slumped back against the wall once again with tears slipping silently down my cheeks. And slowly, oh so slowly, my brain started functioning again, and my Dad was gone. The hallway wasn't bleak and stretching and filled with shadows. It was a regular corridor, and everything was silent.

The pieces were put together and I stood shakily and carried on down the corridor, slowly but surely making my way to my room.

I collapsed on the bed, curling in on myself, eyes wide as I watched the door. I didn't dare let myself blink. What if Dad came back? What if he whispered horrible things in my ear again?

I was broken out of my thoughts by a soft knock at the door.

"Who is it? What do you want?" My voice was high, hoarse, strained by my most recent encounter with them.

"Hello, Lily. It's Doctor Moon." A soft, soothing voice came floating through the door. "I haven't got a wand. I'm not going to hurt you. I just need to do your evaluation. Hailey came to find me; she said that you were having trouble in the corridor. I thought it might be better if we had our meeting in your own space… Can I come in?"

"Yes." I whispered, scrabbling to sit up, and I scrubbed at my face as she entered. It was then that I noticed the cracking and drying blood under my fingernails.

She smiled softly at me. She was tall with short brown hair and bright, cornflower blue eyes. "As I said, I'm Doctor Moon, but most people call me Lily." This made me smile softly in return. "I actually went to school with your father." The smile instantly disappeared, and I knew she'd spotted it. "Would you mind if I sat on the bed?" I shook my head, and she made herself comfortable, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. "Do you have a poor relationship with your father?" She asked, poised and ready to write.

"Yes. No. I… I don't know." My voice sounded pathetic to my own ears.

"Would you care to explain?"

"I… I feel he ignores me. That… That he thinks I'm not as important as James and Al and the rest of my cousins. I know I'm not. If I was, he wouldn't say the things he does."

"What things?"

"The horrible things he whispers in my ear when no one else is around. He was the one who told me to cut the first time. He… He said he'd love me more if I did, that they all would."

"I see… Did you ever see him? Did he ever visit you and tell you to do it?" She asked, jotting something down.

I nodded frantically. "If I skipped a lesson, he'd come into my dorm and make me do it in my room… and sometimes when I was wondering the castle I'd turn around and he'd be there."

"Was it him you saw in the hallway earlier today?"

"Only after the voices. He sometimes visits after the voices and I think that he's going to save me but he doesn't." I tugged at a hangnail, my eyebrows furrowed slightly. I shuddered at the burning, stinging tearing sensation it left as it ripped at my skin.

"What about your mother and your brothers? Do you have a good relationship with them?"

"Not really. Mum wants me to be like her when I'm not, and I don't want to be, but everyone else does too so I try really, really hard to do it, but it never works out and they all get angry at me." I told her, rambling slightly. "And Al and James are both really good at what they want to do. They all got the best bits of Mum or Dad or the Aunts and Uncles so I can't really relate to them on any level at all, so I never really speak to them. But neither them nor Mum ever say anything to me about the cuts or any of the other stuff."

"Other stuff?" She asked, sitting up a bit straighter. "What other stuff?"

"I used to go to the Room Of Requirement at school and asks for drink and drugs and stuff like that. Sometimes needles to take back with me. There's nothing quite like the prick of a needle, Doctor Moon." I rubbed the pads of my fingers together, lost in thought.

"Did you do that often?"

"The drink and the drugs as well as the needles?" I asked, and she nodded. "The needles I used to do every day, just pricking my hands mostly. The drink and drugs was a weekly thing. I usually spent Friday nights getting completely and utterly wasted on my own, taking a little more each time. I never did find out what my limit was…" I frowned a little.

She scribbled frantically, underlining something repeatedly. "Do you feel inadequate, Lily?" She asked.

I hummed a little, "I suppose so. I never really called it inadequate. It's more like a deep sense of self loathing."

"Do you think about it a lot?"

"Yes."

"Daily?"

"Yes."

"Do you lose sleep over it?"

"Yes."

"Do you not eat because of it?"

"Yes."

"Was this your first suicide attempt?"

"No."

She paused, "When was your first?"

"At school. I tried to throw myself off of the astronomy tower, but they'd put spells in place that meant you couldn't fall at your usual rate after what happened to Dumbledore."

She winced slightly, and I assumed she was recalling his death.

She followed up with a variety of other questions, ranging from my capability at school, to how long my friendships had lasted, and to how much weight I'd lost over the past year or so. I answered honestly, because I knew something was wrong with me. I knew I wasn't like my cousins, or my brothers, or my parents, and I honestly wanted to know what it is that I had.

After about 3 hours, she stood, smiling kindly at me.

"Thank you, Lily. It's been a pleasure talking to you. I'll have your results in a day or two, and then I'll call your parents in and we can discuss everything together." I simply nodded.

She moved towards the door, but she stopped, hand resting lightly on the handle. "One last question. When you saw your Dad in the hallway, you said you thought 'it was your turn to be saved'... What did you mean?"

I stared at the blanket on my bed, knees hugged to my chest and fingers picking at the stitching. "I meant that he somehow saved the entire magical community, thousands of people that he didn't even know… and yet he couldn't save me from myself. I just… I never really give up on him. I always hope that maybe he can somehow fix me, save me, learn to love me."

Doctor Moon nodded. A tiny movement of her neck, and she slowly opened the door and nodded towards me.

"Please sort out the cuts on her head." And with that and a small wave she left and a nurse walked in, wheeling a tray. She pinned my hair back so she could see what she was doing, and one by the one the cuts left by my nails were healed. She then trimmed my nails for me, annoyingly short and stubby, so I couldn't do it again. And then she too was gone. The tray still sat in my room. As I lifted the lid I realized then that these were more of my personal items. Books, art supplies, my camera. All the stuff that I would've brought with me if I'd had the chance. And I couldn't help but wonder who knew me well enough to put these things together for me.

I emerged from my room after finishing the book I'd been roughly three quarters of the way through before being admitted. It was a muggle book about various families, all of them fighting for the Iron Throne. I made a mental note to ask someone to pick up the next volume in the series for me.

I somehow wound up in what I assumed was the rec room. It was all soft pillows, squidgy sofas and had bright beanbags littered everywhere. There was a wizvis, the wizards take on muggle television, in one corner, and the cabinet below locked tight shut. There were tables on the opposite side, one covered in paints and pencils, another in artsy crafty supplies and the final one in what looked like play-doh.

I heard someone shout my name and I turned, scanning the room, eventually spotting Hailey sitting with a few other people. She beckoned me over and I sighed, walking sluggishly towards them.

"Are you okay?" She asked, "Doctor Moon said she'd get back to me, but she never did."

"Yeah I'm fine. She gave me my eval in my room and then sent a nurse in to sort me out. Said she'd have my results in a day or two and that she'd sit me down with my parents and talk all this shit over with me." I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, fiddling awkwardly with my hands as she stared at me.

"She did that with me too. It's not so bad, really. They keep you in for a bit no matter the result, they just discuss how long you're going to be here. Most of it's decided by the Doctors so don't expect an easy escape."

I blinked at her. "I don't want an easy escape. I want them to fix me." The whole group looked at me then. "What?"

"Most newbies are in denial." A girl with long black hair and a spatter of freckles across her nose said. "They say that there's nothing wrong with them and that they don't need to be here. I'm Cheyenne, by the way. Cheyenne Smith."

"Lily Potter, nice to meet you."

"Sit down and I'll introduce you to the lot. In fact, we can have a little get to know session whilst we're at it."

I sat opposite Hailey, next to a boy with sandy hair and pale green eyes. He smiled at me before going back to staring at the carpet.

"Okay. You know me, Hailey Zabini, 16, Schizo. Go."

"Cheyenne Smith, 17, bi-polar with a hint of depression. Go."

"Zach Dobbs, 16, drug abuse and self harm. Go." The sandy haired boy said, still staring at the floor.

"Florence Penrose, 17, best buds with Ana and Mia." A voice to my right said cheerily, making me jump. I whirled, and there was a tall, brutally skinny blonde girl sat next to me who wasn't there when I arrived. She was pale, and her hair wound down to her protruding ribs in soft waves. She smirked at me, eyes hard. "Go."

"Lily Potter, 16, unconfirmed." I muttered. "Nice to meet you all."

"Nice to meet you too, fresh meat." Florence said, throwing an arm that felt more like a twig around my shoulders. "We'll show you the ropes. You joining us for music therapy this afternoon?"

"No thanks. I'm probably going to bed in an hour or so."

"But -" Hailey started.

"Don't push her. We didn't push you." Zach said as he tapped the tips of his fingers together at the same time, in the same pattern, over and over again. Hailey fell silent.

"How long have you all been here?" I asked, looking around at them all.

"Three months." Hailey said.

"Four months." Cheyenne said.

"Six months." Zach muttered.

"A year and a half." Florence grinned.

I couldn't help but stare at her.

"I don't want to 'get better'. There's nothing wrong with me. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be perfect." She said casually, as if that explained it all.

"This is why I was so surprised, newbie." Cheyenne said sourly as she eyed Florence, lips pressed together in a thin, hard line. "Half the people in Mental Wards won't admit that they're just that. Mental."


	4. Chapter 4

I sat silently, fiddling with my hands while Cheyenne and Florence bickered above me.

"Take that back, bitch!"

"Make me, twig!"

"I'm not a twig! I'm a perfectly healthy weight, thank you very much!"

"Yeah, 'cause all the models of perfect health have ribs that look like they'll snap any second."

"Jest because you're fat doesn't mean you have to take it out on everybody else."

A silence fell over the group. I glanced up, quickly examining the faces of everybody around me. Zach was staring at Hailey who was muttering something to Cheyenne who was gaping at Florence who was smirking right back.

"You… think I'm fat?" Cheyenne asked incredulously. "Really?" She shook her head, laughter making her voice shake. "I'm so fucking hurt right now. Like, I'm going to starve myself stupid because of one dumb bitches opinion. Wow, Florence. You really know how to hit 'em hard." The laughter died, a sneer taking over instead. Gone was the carefree Cheyenne and sat in her place was a cold, stony face one instead. "Why don't you take your salad sticks and fuck off back to the toilet stall that you crawled out of? And mop up your puke after you're done. Last time I could smell the stomach acid."

Florence flushed, looking hurt for a moment before it was wiped away. She huffed and stood, disappearing from the room in the same way she'd suddenly appeared, silently and without a trace.

Unfortunately, the silence didn't leave with her. I glanced at Hailey, who grimaced at me.

"Oh God what did I say that for?" Cheyenne whined, head dropping into her hands. "I'm such a bitch! God, I need to apologize to her." She went to stand, but Zach's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and holding her back.

"No. You don't. She was a bitch to you. She deserved it. Leave it."

It was the most I'd ever heard him say, and the calm, level voice he spoke in did wonders. I was no longer keyed up and feeling awkward, Hailey was smiling softly and Cheyenne sat back down without protest, nodding in agreement.

"Okay. Thanks Zach." He merely inclined his head. "So, you're sure you're not joining us for music therapy?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. Not my cup of tea."

"What is then? Reading, art, standard group session?"

Honestly? If this were anything but a psych ward, I'd be raring to join the groups. But this was a psych ward. And I was crazy. And I still didn't trust the doctors. So I wouldn't be joining anything.

"No. None of them do it for me." I heard Hailey sigh, and a pang of annoyance rocketed through me. **_She probably thinks you're incapable or something. Probably thinks you're not taking part because you can't. Probably thinks you're stupid and ignorant_**_. I'm not. I'm not I'm not I'm not. _"I'll watch music therapy for a while though, see what it's like." I said, lip curling slightly as I watched Hailey. She grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

"That'd be great, Lily! I think you'll like what you see!" She babbled on and on about how fun and rewarding it was, how it brought the ward together. I simply nodded, not really processing anything she said. I was too busy listening to everything else going on inside my head. Every counter argument _they_ made. And then a trolley was wheeled in and Hailey was clapping and real life hit my round the head with a tambourine. Literally.

"Shit, sorry." Zach mumbled, passing the tambourine to a giggling Hailey.

"It's okay. No harm done." I smiled at him, receiving a small one in return as he passed a small electric keyboard to Cheyenne and took a guitar for himself.

"Alright people, take your seats!" A man called, gesturing to the fold out chairs arranged in an arc. It was like they were a choir or something. The three stood, walking over, heads ducked and whispering. **_About you._** _No, they're not. **How do you know?**_ Zach glanced back for a moment before taking a seat, attention focused on the man in front of them all. **_See?_**_ Shut up._ "Alright people! For the new guys, I'm Alex. I run all the therapy sessions. Hey, you." It took me a minute to register the fact that he was talking to me.

"Yeah?"

"You not joining us?"

"No. Not today. Just watching."

"You're new here, right?" He asked, grinning crookedly.

"Yeah."

"What's your name?"

"Lily Potter."

"Well, Lily, it's nice to meet you. I hope you join in next time, and until then I hope you enjoy our tunes."

"Cool. Thanks." I mumbled as he turned back to the group, producing a conductor's baton and waving excitedly.

"He's pretty cute, isn't he?" Someone murmured in my ear, making me jump.

"Shit, Florence. Can you not do that?" I asked breathlessly, massaging my chest.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on people."

"I don't sneak up on people. They just don't notice me." She frowned for a minute, before steeling her appearance again. She did that a lot. Hide behind a mask of indifference.

"Why're you here?"

"Figured I'd keep you company." She shrugged, putting bottles of nail varnish on the table in front of us.

"Alright then." I mumbled, settling myself on the sofa and folding my arms across my chest, shivering slightly in the nonexistent cold.

"Okay, you guys ready?" I heard Alex ask, receiving a chorus of 'yes!' from his entourage. "And a one, and a two, and a one, two, three!" And… they were _good_. Surprisingly so… Or at least they were for the first 3 or 4 minutes until the kid on the trumpet choked, squeaking out a painfully high-pitched note. Then everyone sort of descended into fits of giggles, which bloomed into full on laughter. I couldn't help but smile watching them. They all looked so bloody happy. But I guess Florence saw it as a smirk.

"Pathetic, aren't they? I don't know why Alex bothers with them, if I'm honest. They don't take it seriously and they find the stupidest things funny." I heard her roll her eyes. "So fucking childish."

I closed my eyes, trying to block the sound of her prattling on and on and on, wishing she'd just shut up already. **_Just strangle her. Grab her throat and squeeze until her last breath fans across your face, until the blood vessels pop and blossom against the whites of her eyes._** My eyes snapped open, my breathing coming sharp and fast as I stood, muttering an excuse to a disgruntled Florence and hurrying out of there. That was new. That was something completely and utterly new.

My breathing evened out as I wondered around the war, taking myself on the tour that was never offered to me on arrival. I guess they were a bit preoccupied, in their defense. I found communal showers/bathrooms, 5 vending machines modified to take muggle coins, two pay phones (muggle style), one fireplace with restricted access, a help desk, a check in desk, a pair of double doors that lead to the rest of the hospital, a library and Dr. Moon's office, in which was sat a couple, talking to her. A couple that looked familiar. The man had a head of shocking blonde hair and the woman sleek, chocolate brown curls. I paused for a moment, cocking my head and narrowing my eyes. As I did, the man turned slightly. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he saw me, turning back around again quickly. Startled, and slightly embarrassed, I carried on back to my room, head down, not trusting myself to look around again.

It was only as I was drifting off to sleep that night that I recognized the couple sat in Dr. Moon's office. The last thought that passed through my brain that afternoon was what exactly were Draco and Astoria Malfoy doing in Mungo's psych ward?

* * *

**authors note;** thank you so much for being patient, those who track this. i'm sorry it took so long to upload; writers block is a bitch. well anyway, this has been chapter 4 and chapter 5 is on it's merry way!


	5. Chapter 5

When I was younger, I used to have nightmares. I'd wake every night at 3am, drenched in cold sweat, clinging to my mother and sobbing into her shoulder, mumbling incoherently. It worried them, sure, but they never took me to a doctor, never asked anything deeper than the standard 'are you okay, sweetie?' before hushing me back to sleep… They blamed it on books and television, the scary stories about global warming and the impending apocalypse, and Grandpa Weasley's strange obsession with muggle taxidermy, the array of stuffed bears and foxes and wolves that prowled the Burrow's garage at night. They never once thought the monster in my dreams slept across the hall.

I was ten when they got scared. When concern hit them like a brick wall. Albus was sick, some stomach bug he'd caught from a friend, and my mother was taking care of him when I woke, startled, shuddering, crying out at the feeling of demons crawling out of my ears and slinking into the corners of my room. My father rushed in, a sleepy, fumbling, bumbling mess of a man, a hush on his lips that was drowned out by the new bout of screams that burst out of my already raw throat. I scrabbled backwards, grabbing a book from the sideboard and throwing it at him, the sharp corner grazing his forehead and making him curse in shock. More things were thrown. Snow globes, my untouched glass of milk, toys, the bedside lamp, everything. All of it in an attempt to keep him away…

"Lily!" He eventually roared, making me freeze, arm angled awkwardly and mouth agape. His voice softened as my mother rushed in, 5 minutes too late. "It's me, your Daddy… Sweetie you're awake!"

"That's what you always say!" I croaked back, dropping whatever I'd been clutching at. I turned wide imploring eyes to my mother, then, pleading with her to understand what I was really saying. "Mummy, that's what he always says!"

She simply stared at me as I cried, confusion marring her pretty face. She didn't know what to do; my father didn't know what to do… Nobody knew what to do with lonely little Lily. So they left her.

6 years on, the dreams don't scare me anymore. That's a lie. They grew with me. Fears adapting with age, and by default the demons did too. Every day I wake, eyes streaming, heart pounding, lungs gasping, scream tamed and trapped in the hollow of my chest. A raging hurricane rattling away to no avail inside an old glass jar. Everyday I close my eyes again and breathe, feeling my heartbeat adopt its natural rhythm again. Everyday I think that if I live to see tomorrow morning, I'll only need two more miracles to be a saint. I stare blankly at the cold white ceiling, begging for an imperfection to appear, waiting for something that I can latch onto, feed, fuel. Anything, any little thing, that can make me feel human. But nothing shows, and I'm a monster for yet another day.

It was with leaden legs that I dragged myself into the canteen for breakfast. Bleary, bloodshot eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. I spotted Hailey and Zach sat together, heads bowed and muttering quietly between themselves. Privately. Lovingly. I shook my head, dispelling the thoughts, and grabbed myself tray with a premade breakfast on it, choosing a corner table with only one chair. Where the other would've been sat a messy wire frame, melted plastic stiffened half way to the floor. They looked like raindrops that had been denied their final resting place, and had grown bitter and black with the years gone by. I absent mindedly wondered why the ward hadn't simply fixed it with magic, removed the molten mess and replaced it with a squeaky clean model of perfection that the rest of the tables had. **_Maybe it's supposed to show that not everything can be fixed by waving a wand. Or maybe that beneath everything beautiful is a black, seething, ugly mess of pure destruction. Just like you._** Before I realized what I'd done, the plastic fork was embedded in the back of my hand, the pain chasing _it_ into the back of my head, cackling as it went. I quickly pulled the fork out, wincing as I did. I flexed my fingers, watching four beads of blood blossom to the surface, unmoving, and unwavering in their stand. Even they were perfect in their own fucked up way.

"Shit, Lily, what did you do?" Cheyenne placed her tray next to mine, grabbing my hand before I could stop her.

"What're you sitting on?" I asked, ignoring the way she dabbed at me with a napkin.

"A chair. What're you sitting on?" She grinned, albeit a little uneasily.

"But it's _not_ a chair. It was all nasty and burnt and melted. Did you fix it? Do you have your wand on you or something?"

"No I don't. Nothing in the ward's ever been burnt down. Are you okay, Lily? Do you want me to get a nurse or Dr. Moon?"

I snatched my hand back from her, eyes narrowing slightly, conspiratorial whispers ricocheting around my head. "No. I'm fine."

"Lily -"

"I said I'm fine, so will you just leave me alone! You're just going to turn on me any second anyway like you did with Florence yesterday, so fuck off already and stop pretending!" I yelled, glaring at her icily. "I neither need nor want your help, and besides, _you_ are in no position to help anyone."

She stared at me levelly, silence had descended over the canteen, and everything was still. Everyone was breathing one collective breath, waiting for something or someone to snap. But it didn't, at least not yet anyway. "I'm not letting you suffer alone."

"I'm not suffering. I'm coping perfectly well."

"Then you're not coping at all."

And she was right.

**_Ring a ring o' rosies, a pocket full of posies, atishoo atishoo, they all fall down. Ring a ring o' rosies, a pocket full of posies, atishoo atishoo, they all fall down. Ring a ring o' rosies, ring a ring o' rosies, ring a ring o' rosies, you'll all fall down, you'll all fall down, you'll all fall down. _**I bit down harder on my lower lip, tasting the sharp metallic tang of blood. It'd been going on for about 5 minutes now like a broken record in the back of my head, and it was slowly driving me crazy. Well, crazier than I already was. What I was sure was a hysterical laugh burst out of my lips then, and once it started, I couldn't seem to stop it. That was how the nurse found me, with bright red bloodied lips, laughing hysterically on my bed, and every so often muttering a line from an old children's rhyme. And that was how my parents found me too.

"Lily?" My mother's soft tone had me craning my neck to see around the nurse who was tending to my lip. I cracked a grin, wide and bloody and all pearly teeth, wincing at the sting of the stretch and the tutting of the nurse. My mother gasped a little, pressing a hand to her trembling lips. She had a habit of doing that, I noticed.

"Hey mum. How're you?" Be cordial. Be nice. Be everything you're normally not.

"We're…" She glanced at my father, who was looking anywhere but the room I was sitting in. His skin was almost grey, stretched taut like parchment. She grimaced. "Okay, darling. We're okay. How are you?"

"Not bad. Still crazy. Not as many suicidal urges though."

There was an awkward silence, both parents staring at me in surprise. The only sound being the shuffling of the nurse's shoes as finished.

"Too soon, I guess. Um, why're you here?"

"Dr Moon said she has your diagnosis. We need to see how long you'll be… staying for."

"Committed, mum." I said, standing and thanking the nurse with a small nod. "How long I'll be committed for. I'm not stupid."

"Right." She muttered. "Right. Of course."

I walked up to her, a smaller smile on my face, and enveloped her in a hug. "It's good to see you though. Even if it's not for the best of reasons…" It was over quickly. Before she could even return it I had moved past them both, gesturing for them to follow me. The thought of touching them made my skin crawl, and actually doing it made me feel like I was being burnt by hot irons at every point of contact. I shuddered, focusing instead on leading them to Dr Moon's office.

"So, what's it like here? Made any friends?" My fathers voice was tentative, cautious. In all honesty I was surprised he was talking to me directly.

I shrugged, not turning to look at him. "It's alright I suppose. Better than the adult psych ward at any rate. That place is sterile and white and just horrible. It's not like the movies either. No straight jackets or crazy Doctors giving patients the wrong meds for a laugh. And yeah I have, not many though. Hailey Zabini, she was in my year at school, Cheyenne Smith and Zach Dobbs. And there's Florence, but I don't really like her that much. She's a bit of a bitch. But beggars can't be choosers, right?" I rambled on, choosing not to turn to look at them, choosing to ignore the stares of the other patients, choosing to focus only on the winding corridor leading to Dr Moons office. "But they're not real friends. They're just people to get me through this. Hailey said at the beginning that if you don't socialize, you end up crazier than you were when you're admitted so that's why I'm talking to them. So I don't get worse." I nodded a few times in quick succession. "Right." I said, stopping outside of Dr Moon's office. "Here we are." I gestured, and my mother stepped forward and rapped her knuckles gently against the wooden door. It swung open, and Dr Moon greeted them with a wide smile on her face, ushering us into the spacious room. It smelt of green tea and honeysuckle. It smelt pure and detoxed. I didn't like it.

"Welcome, welcome! I'm so glad you could make it." She gestured to the 3 seats in front of her desk and we sat, my mother fidgeting, my fathers hands clasped tightly in his lap, and me staring blankly at her as she took a seat and smiled at the three of us. "So, do we all know why we're here?"

"You've got my diagnosis." I said after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes. I do. And you'll be glad to know that you can be helped."

I shuffled forward slightly, hands shaking a little as I gripped my knees. "Tell me."

"From the questions I've asked you, what I've been told, your description of your symptoms and experiences, I've come to the conclusion that you're suffering from Major Depressive Disorder and you have a Borderline Personality Disorder. Both of which can be treated with psychotherapy, and antidepressants. We will, however, be keeping you here for a minimum of six months so we can introduce you to your treatments in a safe, secure and stable environment. We'll re-evaluate you after six months to see how you're progressing and how we'll proceed from there. Do you have any questions?"

The silence that followed was surprisingly comforting. It let reality sink in.

It was true. It was now a clinically proven fact. Lily Potter, was indeed, crazy.

* * *

_Thank you so so much for reading! Please review and track if you like it!3_


	6. Chapter 6

_What's this?! A new chapter?! Really?!_

_I know. I'm sorry. So very sorry. I can' apologise enough. If you've stuck with this; thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. This is for all of you guys. I love you._

* * *

A horrific sense of calm seemed to settle over the office. My mother and father seemed stuck to their seats, clinging to each other like they were the ones that needed comforting. Needed help and support and some sense of stability in their _oh so hectic _lives. I bit the inside of my cheek. Well, they had just been told that their daughter was crazy. And the shock on their faces meant that they really hadn't seen it coming. I would've snorted, if it didn't hurt so much that they thought I was faking or exaggerating or something along those lines.

"Well, mother, father, lovely to see you." I started, standing and smoothing down my shirt, eyes anywhere but them. "But I need to, you know, get on with getting better. And I'm sure Dr Moon is very busy."

They both blinked up at me, obviously confused and slightly surprised by what I was doing. Which, essentially, was ejecting them from the office so I didn't have to look at them anymore. My mother nodded jerkily, rising and pulling me into a hug. I didn't do hugs often or willingly. Never had. They hadn't been too big a thing in my household when I was younger, which was surprising because the Weasley's were supposed to be the _biggest, bestest, kindest pureblood family ever_, and my father was supposed to be nothing like his guardians had been; was supposed to be giving his children what he'd never had. But those traits had been surprisingly absent during my childhood. I wondered if maybe by the time I came along, they weren't seen as important, or at least not as important as they had once been. So I stiffened immediately, giving her a small pat on the back before she released me, staring at me with red eyes and a mournful expression on her face, like she'd just been told I was dying, not that I'd have to spend a minimum of sixth months in a mental ward. And then my father was pulling me into a hug and I wanted to scream, my hands curled at my sides and I bit down hard on my cheek again and I willed myself not to push him away because this was what I wanted, wasn't it? I wanted recognition and love and everything everybody else got from him. **_But you're only getting it because of me._** _Shut up. __**You know it's true Lily. He's only doing this because I'm in the back of your head.**_ And he stepped back, taking my mothers hand, and giving me a look that told me it was right. And I hated them both for it.

They left after about a minute of staring. My mother ducked her head, choking out a sob, and turned, pulling my father with her. I tried not to visibly relax when they'd left, and thought I'd been successful, except Dr Moon was taking notes when I turned and I was pretty sure they were all about me.

"Um, is there anything else you needed?" I asked, fingers picking at the seam on the side of my jeans.

"No, Lily. Everything's sorted. Your treatment will start in about a week, is that okay?" I nodded. "Good. That gives you time to get properly comfortable, make a few more friends. Think of this place as less of a prison." I gave her a small nod; eyebrows raised and turning on my heel. "Oh and Lily?" I turned my head.

"Yes?"

"Please keep the fact you saw the Malfoy's here to yourself?" Her head was ducked again, writing something in a print like hand. "They're afraid of admitting the person who needs help because of their family history. Worried that they'll suffer in here like they do on the outside." She glanced up, a steely glint in her eye. "And I wouldn't want any rumors spread about the place putting them off and letting that hurt continue."

I scoffed a little then, glaring, before practically marching out of the door, calling over my shoulder. "Just because I'm crazy, doesn't mean I'm cruel."

The little laugh she gave wafted down the corridor behind me, and I did my best to ignore the way it sounded almost taunting.

* * *

"So, how did it go?" Hailey asked, tucking her legs under her as I flopped onto the sofa.

"Okay. Major Depressive Disorder and a Borderline Personality Disorder. Treated with psychotherapy and antidepressant. Minimum admittance time of six months." I shrugged, hugging a pillow to my chest.

"Could be worse. Could've been something that meant permanent admittance and constant supervision." She said softly, and I nodded a little. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Did I act happy about the fact it was treatable? Did I cry because I was stuck here for six months and would probably be on medication for the rest of my life? Did I rejoice because at least I wasn't stuck in the castle? I paused. "What about school?"

Hailey blinked at me. "What about it?"

"Do they have lessons here to keep you up to date?"

She shook her head a little. "No. The main focus here is getting better, not ensuring you maintain passing grades. You can do independent study if you want; they've got a library here after all. But they won't make you do anything."

I nodded. "That's good. I'm pretty sure having to write tons of essays to make up for lost time would make me even crazier." A silence settled over us. One that made my skin crawl and left me with this need to fidget or to just get up and run. "How do you do it?" I asked, just to break the silence.

"Do what?"

It came out an almost laugh. The kind of thing that your voice does when you want to cry but you can't. "Act normal after being told you're anything but?"

She looked down at her hands, picking at her nails, and she took her time answering. Her voice was slow, and measured, and oh so careful. Like she thought if she spoke too fast, or too brashly… I'd break in two. "I think you learn to live with it. I think it haunts you, morning noon and night. I think it lingers at the edge of every thought you have. I think… I think after a while, your crazy just becomes your new normal. If you don't learn to live with it, it learns to live through you."

The silence we lapsed into after that wasn't horrible. Wasn't awkward or prickly or the kind that made me want to be anywhere else. It was the kind of silence you find safety in. The kind that wraps you up and ensures you that you are going to be okay, because someone else has done what you have. Someone else has gotten through this. Has made it out alive.

* * *

We sat in silence until Alex loped in, dragging a cart of what looked like paint behind him. I blinked, and turned to look at Hailey, who had a grin forming on her face.

"Paint therapy." She said, nose wrinkling a little in a downright adorable way.

"I thought art therapy was down the hall?"

She shook her head. "This is different. Much better. We only get it once every two weeks." I glanced back at Alex, who was chucking scrubs onto the floor, and my eyes widened.

"You mean—"

"Yepp."

"And we—"

"Yepp."

We stared at each other, and before I knew it I was grinning and vaulting over the back of the sofa, laughing as I grabbed an oversized bottom and top, tugging them on, and worming my way into the almost vibrating crowd of teenagers that surrounded Alex.

"Okay kids, you all know what today is." There was a light cheering from the group, and Hailey popped up beside me, tugging her hair into a ponytail. "For the newbies, welcome." He flashed a grin in my direction, and I nodded my head in return. "We hope you enjoy. The basic rules are, no going outside of the room with the paint. Everything in here is protected with spells so it won't do any permanent damage. The rest of the ward, however, is not. So you go out there with this, and anything you get paint on, you will have to clean up or replace. But that's it. Come and pick your colour, and wait for the countdown." The crowd surged forward, grabbing various tins and tubes and spreading out around the room.

"Stick with me for the first few minutes, okay?" Hailey said, snagging a pot of purple gloss and handing it to me, before choosing a garish sunflower yellow for herself and hurrying back towards the sofa. She toppled it, and tucked herself behind it, nodding for me to join her. "This is base. We wait for the whistle, and then we go. Literally aim for everybody who isn't me. We're a team, okay?" I nodded, hugging the tin to my chest. "If you're in trouble, I'll come for you, and if I'm in trouble and you're around, I'll expect you to come for me." I nodded again, more excitedly, and held out my pinky. She blinked at it, before grinning and hooking her own finger around it. "Team?"

"Team." I beamed at her, heart thudding in my chest.

"Alright! Everybody ready?" Alex's yell echoed around the room. "Three! Two! One! Go!"

And suddenly the room was full of war cries and screeches and laughter, and paint was spattering onto the floor in front of our feet, and Hailey was yelling and scrabbling forward, and I was close behind her, immediately painted black and blue. Streaks of sunflower yellow sliced through my horizon, purple spilled over my hands and coated the faces and arms and torsos of everybody I passed, and I was laughing. Laughing hard and honest and true and it felt like I hadn't done that in ages. The fact of the matter was I _hadn't_ done it in ages. Hailey was being cornered by Zach and Cheyenne, and I surged forward, heaving the tub so it sloshed over their heads and down their necks, and I laughed as they turned on me, faces scrunched and shouting out, spattering me with their reds and greens that tickled my skin and matted my hair. And then we called a treuce and we charged on the group that beat Hailey and Zach at table football the other week, and drenched the girl that nicked the remote from Cheyenne and put on some shitty soap instead of the documentary about badgers, and soon we were all collapsed in a paint covered heap, the entire ward, wheezing and laughing and congratulating each other on technique. And it felt like a home. Like a truly fucked up but entirely happy home. And I loved it.

* * *

I was traipsing to the shower at about 10 when I saw her, hovering ouside of Dr Moons office. It was Mrs Malfoy, hair tied up sloppily, and looking so beaten, so defeated, that I had to say something.

"Excuse me?" She jumped, and turned her wide, bloodshot eyes on me. "Are you okay?"

She blinked a few times, before nodding a little. Then stopping, and shaking her head instead, face crumpling a little. "I don't know what to do." It came out a terrified whisper, a plea, really. And she sat heavily in the chair opposite the office door.

"What's happened?" I asked, crouching in front of her.

"It's my son. He needs help. He's… Hurting. He's hurting all the time and we need to do something, but Draco's afraid of what'll happen to him if we put him in the system."

My eyes widened a little, but I nodded slowly. "Scorpius, right?"

She nodded, "How do you know him?"

"He was a friend of my brother, Al. They worked on a few projects together. I saw him in the library sometimes, and the kitchens. We were friends too, I guess, before I was admitted. We'd chat about small things before we went back to our commomrooms or classes or to studying." I smiled softly at her. "He's lovely. I'm sorry he's hurting."

She sniffed lightly, before her eyes near lit up. "Can you do me a favour, Lily?"

"Of course."

"Can you tell that to my husband?"

My brow furrowed a little. "Tell him what, exactly?"

"That you don't hate Scor for what his name holds. That you think he's kind. That you're his friend."

"Sure, if you think it'll help."

She beamed tearily at me and clutched my hand, standing and pulling me towards the office. I could hear heated voices through the door, and was about to ask if we should knock when she pushed it open, tugging me inside.

"Can't you send someone to the manor?" Mr Malfoy was stood, palms flat on the desk, near bellowing at Dr Moon. "Can't you do something more than say to admit him?"

"No, Mr Malfoy, I can't." Her voice was soothing, calm, and her eyebrows twitched up a little at the sight of Mrs Malfoy and I, my hand near clutched to her chest. "Lily, what a lovely surprise. What can I do for you?"

Mr Malfoy turned on us, face twisting in what looked like a mixture of shock, pain and embarrassment, before his gaze settled on his wife.

"What're you doing, Astoria?" It was bone weary, tired, and defeated. "Why did you bring her in here?"

"She's got something to tell you." She barely hid her excitement, and she turned wide imploring eyes on me. My stomach twisted a little. She looked so hopeful, so dependent. I swallowed thickly, before turning back to Mr Malfoy.

"Scorpius. He needs help, right?" There was a slight tick in his jaw. "I don't know what's wrong with him." I said quickly. "Mrs Malfoy hasn't told me anything. But she's scared for him. She's really worried, and she thinks here is the best place for him. It's… It's good here. It's nice." **_No it's not. They make you forget. They're getting into your head Lily._** My heart stuttered. "They're helping me get better too." **_No they're not, Lily. I'm still here._** "And I'm not treated differently because of who my dad is." **_Tell that to your one friend; the daughter of Death Eater scum she is too._** "And I was friends with Scorpius before I came here." Mr Malfoy's brows shot up a little.

"Really?"

I nodded quickly. "Yeah. We'd study together in the library, and I'd run into him in the kitchens sometimes and we'd talk. He's really nice, lovely and kind and he'd always take time out to help me with things, even though I was in a different house and year and he had no reason to be nice to me. And I don't want him to hurt any more than you do." He slumped back in his chair, and Mrs Malfoy squeezed my hand. I took it as a sign of victory, on her part. "If you do admit him… I'll do my best to look out for him. I'll make sure he's safe here, Mr Malfoy. I promise." He gave me a small smile, and a nod of thanks, and Mrs Malfoy rushed over to him, hugging him tightly and crying softly into his shoulder. Dr Moon gave me a small wink, and I slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly and carrying on towards the shower.

_"What a promise, Lily." _It was quiet, lilting, drifting down the corridor towards me and curling into my ears. Light glinting off of glasses, a faded lighting bolt shaped scar, jade eyes that burned in the harsh sterile light. _"Saying you'll keep him safe when you can't even do that for yourself."_ And maybe he was right.

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_Please please please please please review. I'll have your HP babies. _


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